Quote

Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, Delightful industry enjoy'd at home, An Nature, in her cultivated trim Dress'ed to his taste, inviting him abroad - Can he want occupation who has these?

William Cowper

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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
Books
Dress
Friends
Simplicity
Trim
Enjoy
Dresses
Cultivated
Nature
Garden
Inviting
Home
Friendship
Abroad
Book
Taste
Pens
Perhaps
Delightful
Industry
Occupation

More quotes by William Cowper

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England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!
William Cowper
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And hast thou sworn on every slight pretence, Till perjuries are common as bad pence, While thousands, careless of the damning sin, Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within?
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
William Cowper
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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
William Cowper
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
William Cowper
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Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then 'tis your country bids!
William Cowper
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To trace in Nature's most minute design The signature and stamp of power divine. ... The Invisible in things scarce seen revealed, To whom an atom is an ample field.
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Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
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Hast thou not learnd what thou art often told, A truth still sacred, and believed of old, That no success attends on spears and swords Unblest, and that the battle is the Lords?
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'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume And we are weeds without it.
William Cowper
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A noisy man is always in the right.
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There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
William Cowper
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Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oftenest in what least we dread Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
William Cowper
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Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days The scene is touching, and the heart is stone, That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
William Cowper
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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
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She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming.
William Cowper
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Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of paradise that has surviv'd the fall!
William Cowper
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The beggarly last doit.
William Cowper